


Thy life's asunder, thine heart's ardor

by DiverseMediums, takemeawaytocamelot



Category: Outlander & Related Fandoms, Outlander (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-07
Updated: 2017-11-04
Packaged: 2019-01-10 09:02:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12295878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DiverseMediums/pseuds/DiverseMediums, https://archiveofourown.org/users/takemeawaytocamelot/pseuds/takemeawaytocamelot
Summary: James Fraser awakes, injured and alone, after being shipwrecked. At least, he thinks he's alone.





	1. Prologue

The light was dancing, shades of green, yellow, and blinding white swirling above him as the birdsong weaved between them. Light. Was there light in Purgatory? He didn't remember why, but somehow knew he was supposed to be dead. Jamie Fraser blinked, the blurred colors surrounding him coming into focus; trees and sunshine. The sand underneath him, hot and soft. 

A colorful bird regarded him from its perch on the closest branch, its body swaying up and down with the breeze that brought the scent of salt and rotting wood to his nose. The ocean. Salt. Drowning. Rot. 

Jamie rolled and threw up, moaning as pain racked his body with each heave. His vision blurred again, colorful bursts of light darkening into black night. Death. Perhaps. The last thing he remembered before exhaustion and bodily misuse reclaimed him were eyes, soft and golden as whisky, regarding him with wariness.


	2. 1

God, he was drowning. He kicked free of the rope netting and started swimming toward what he hoped was the surface. His lungs burned, starving his body of air as the world went black…

Jamie jerked, panicking as he tried to throw off whatever was pulling him back under the surface of the water. He gulped in a lungful of air, coming to his senses before he pulled off the rags that bound his arm to his side. His whole body ached; burns, bruises, and scrapes in varying stages of healing made themselves known as he lay there, just breathing. 

He could feel the redness of his skin, burnt from the sun, chafing against the salt encrusted material of his shirt. The sand shifted with his movements, sticking to him in God knew how many places. The sun was high. Midday, but what day was it now? A movement out of the corner of his eye made him scramble to his feet, only to thud heavily against a tree to keep from falling. 

The exclamation of pain he emitted surprised him; then again, his arm felt like it was falling off. He glanced up, light headed and sick as the small clearing spun around him. He was able to focus long enough to see a woman standing twenty feet away. 

“Your pardon, Mistress,” he croaked, his throat sore and dry. “I must sit or fall down.”

In the end he did a combination of both, sliding down the trunk of the tree. She watched him, hand clasped tightly around what he muzzily thought was a spear of some kind. Jamie licked dry lips, meeting her eyes as he adjusted into a position that wouldn't hurt as much. If the sharp pains in his side were anything to go by, he'd cracked a few ribs. 

She was tall for a lass. Despite being clad in threadbare remains of fabric and smudged from head to feet in dirt, she was graceful in appearance. Smooth muscle lined what he could see of her arms and legs, lending her a tight knit appearance that took nothing away from the soft curves of her body. Her hair was a mass of curly tangles that ruffled down her back. Intelligent golden eyes stared openly back; clearly she was making her own assessment of him. 

Had she news of the Duchess? If the other men survived the storm, surely some would have found themselves here as well. Perhaps they had limped the ship to safety and were making repairs as of now. Christ, he hoped his godfather was among them. 

“My name is James Fraser,” he said hoarsely, nodding in lieu of bowing. 

She didn't respond, just continued to look at him. Did the lass not understand him? Jamie cleared his throat, wincing.

“Could I trouble ye for some water, Mistress?”

Not moving, the woman continued assessing him as she gripped her spear. He belatedly wondered if, despite his weakened state, this woman was afraid of him. The thought almost made him laugh. The only thing in danger near him right now would be food and drink. 

“Ye dinna need to afraid of me,” he said softly, as if to a skittish horse. Placing his hands palm up on his thighs, he met her eyes. “I wilna harm ye. I swear it.”

He didn't stir, afraid to startle the poor lass. After a moment she thrust the end of her spear into the sand at her feet, watching him closely. A truce, then. He could see the trembling of her muscles as she approached, her body ready to spring back if the moment called for it. He'd seen many a man this way in battle, himself included. 

Slowly, she bent and set a battered water skin close enough that he could reach it without hurting himself. He saw the natural paleness of her skin under the dirt and grime, could see that the ragged clothing she wore had once been fine linen. She stood as quietly as she'd come and returned to her position by the fire.

Jamie drank like a man possessed, only stopping to gulp air once the water skin was empty. He closed his eyes, feeling dizzy. 

“Thank ye,” he murmured, watching the colored patterns dance behind his eyelids. 

Christ, he hoped he wouldn't be sick again. Slowly, he lowered himself down to lay on his good side. If the lass ran him through now, we wouldn't complain much. He opened his eyes to tell her so and saw that she was gone.


	3. 2

Jamie opened his eyes to see a pair of golden hawk eyes inches from his face.

“Ack!”

He jerked, then groaned as every battered part of his body rebelled against the sudden movement. She grasped his shoulders, gently but firmly, as he breathed through the pain and sat up. He could see she was trying not to laugh.

“Ye find it funny, then?”

The woman emitted an amused sort of noise, then her brow furrowed. This was the first time she’d touched him and her face looked mildly alarmed. She brought her hand up, gently laying the back of it against his forehead. The touch of her skin on his was cool and soothing, leading him to wonder if he’d been sunburned. The comfort in that small amount of contact astounded him and before he knew it, he was leaning into her hand.

“Thank ye,” he said gently, eyes closing slowly. “Ye saved my life.”

“W-wel-come,” rasped an unfamiliar voice.

Jamie’s eyes snapped open, staring at the woman in front of him. There was no one else around, so the voice he’d heard had to be hers. She smiled shyly, patted his arm awkwardly, and stood.

“Stay,” she said, dragging out the word.

Her eyes were sharp and serious as she gazed at him, as if her will alone could keep where he was. All he could do was stare back at her, dumbfounded. 

Who was this lass?

Mindful of her command, Jamie stayed where he was as she retreated into the trees with her spear. He took the time to make a serious inventory of his injuries, at least what injuries he could feel.   
Almost immediately, he regretted it. Everything seemed to hurt. His joints ached with each beat of his heart. He felt cold, despite the sun, and he began to understand why she’d looked so worried.

She returned with a bundle in her arms. At first, his exhausted mind was sure it was a bairn but when she knelt beside him and set her burden down, he realized it was an odd assortment of herbs. She pulled out a square of cloth and set it in a small bowl of water. 

“Clean,” she said, her voice hoarse and raw.  
Jamie started to laugh but stopped, wincing in pain.

“I think it’ll take more than that bitty wee cloth to clean me, Sassenach.”

Her amber eyes rolled and she shook her head.

She truly did understand, then. 

As he watched, she poked and prodded until she found an open wound. With her small cloth, she cleaned all around it and cleared it of debris. It hurt, but he held himself still.

She pulled his hand into her lap and stared hard at an area of puffy red skin. Her frown deepened and she reached for a knife at her belt. He began tugging at his hand, trying to bring it away from her, but she held it tight.

“Be still,” she said seriously.

His mouth opened to make some sort of objection, but she didn’t give him the time. Instead, she made a quick, small slice in the puffy skin. He hissed in pain when she dug the tip of her knife into his hand and removed a rather large splinter. Holding it up in her bloody fingers, she cocked one eyebrow at him and set it down beside her bowl of water.

She took her time in cleaning as many of his wounds as she could. Once finished, she rinsed out her cloth and bundled up her supplies again. She held the waterskin to his lips and he drank deeply.

Gently, she brushed his hair from his eyes, peering at it closely. Disconcerted at this not altogether unwanted forwardness, he stared at her again. She threaded one of his locks through her fingers, then met his eyes.

“Red,” she said, smiling like she’d just solved some great puzzle.

“Aye,” he said, smiling back at her. “Red.”

Gently, he pushed her hand away so as not to startle her.

“Careful, though. I’m probably ridden wi’ lice.”

She frowned, her eyes focusing on a distant point as if she hadn’t understood his words. Suddenly her mouth formed the perfect ‘oh’ of comprehension and she began rooting around in her makeshift medicine kit again.

Fascinated as he was to see what she would come up with next, Jamie shifted uncomfortably as his body notified him of its needs.

“Sassenach, I ah… I appreciate ye wanting to help rid me of my lice, but… I’ve another… Weel there’s somethin’ else that needs doing and…”

Her brows lifted in question. He huffed a sigh and winced again. How was he supposed to tell her he desperately needed to take a piss, but couldn’t get to his own feet?

She waited, staring at him expectantly.

“Christ, lass. Dinna make me say it…”

Determined to try on his own, he used the tree at his back as leverage. She got to her feet and watched him, hands hovering just out of reach in case he began to fall. Her expression was still puzzled, but she said nothing else, letting him do as he wished.

Walking proved more difficult than standing. Jamie’s knees were shaking and his head was throbbing. He met her eyes just as he was about to sink down again. Quick as an eel, she was there, her lithe frame strong as she helped him steady himself.

“Slowly,” she said, moving along with him.  
Finally, they reached the edge of the treeline and she helped him manage the uneven terrain. Unable to wait any longer, he looked down at her and smiled awkwardly.

“Would ye mind… ah… Perhaps turning away?”

Her gaze questioned him and he began to shift uncomfortably on his feet.

“I’m trying to be delicate, but… Damn it! I need to take a piss and I dinna want ye to watch me!”

For a moment, her eyes went wide and her mouth fell open. Then her expression changed and she visibly bit back her laughter. Slowly, still smirking, she turned on her heel. He let out a sigh of relief when she walked a polite distance away.

Jamie leaned heavily against a tree with his good shoulder as he undid his trousers. His eyes rolled back as he finally relieved the tension in his bladder. With a heavy sigh, he felt his whole body relax for the first time in… he wasn’t even sure how long.

Doing up his flies again, Jamie glanced back to see where the woman had gone. She was still there, faced resolutely away from him, all collishangie hair and strong, fine lines.   
What a way to meet a stranger. Float like flotsam upon her home, force her to care for him, and possibly even giving her lice.

Still, he thought objectively, using the tree to turn himself, she didn’t have to help him. She could have left him to cook in the sun or drown in the ocean.

Looking at the set of her shoulders, the familiar way she carried her spear…

Aye. This lass could care for herself, right enough.   
**********  
Jamie watched the lass moved about their little camp. She’d gathered up a few small animals for them to eat. Feeling utterly useless, Jamie used his tree to sit up a little.

“Would ye like some help wi’ the skinning?” he asked, glancing from the pile to her.

Her brows came together in what he thought was confusion.

“Skinning? Before ye cook the meat o’er the fire? I ken I canna do much in my current situation, but I’m verra good wi’ a knife.”

One hand went to the blade at her belt, hesitating before she pulled it from its sheath and stared at it.

“I already told ye, lass. I willne hurt ye.”

After another moment of contemplation, she picked up something that resembled a very large rat with a long, fluffy tail and set it next to him. She slid a large, flat leaf across the sand beside him and put the animal on top of it, leaving the knife within his easy reach. Then she went back to the rest of her meal preparations.

She put a pot over the small fire filled with water, waiting for it to boil. 

“I’m sorry,” he said softly, making sure he concentrated all of his attention on cutting the skin from the meat without damaging either.  
But when it was quiet for too long, he looked up. The expression on her face was one of pure bewilderment.

“Why?”

“For makin’ ye take care o’ me. Ye didna ask for this, ye didna have to help me.”

She contemplated him for a moment. 

“Leave you to die?” she asked, breaking apart some sort of vegetation and tossing it into the water. 

“It would have saved ye the trouble,” he responded.

With his only task complete, he set the knife down on the leaf beside the hides and carcasses. Truthfully, Jamie wasn’t sure not dying had been the best option. The ship was sunk or well gone by now. His family was dispersed. Now, his body hurt like holy hell and he was stealing resources from the only living person within his vicinity. 

He watched her, trying to wrap his mind around their current circumstances. Her brown curls blew around her face, framing those amber eyes that he’d only ever seen on a leopard. How did she get there? How long had she been alone?

Jamie shifted uncomfortably, hand on his ribs. She caught the movement and was at his side in an instant. Before he could object, she’d pushed his grubby shirt up and was examining his side. Her hands moved swiftly and confidently over his injured body, firm yet comforting. Despite the pain her poking caused, he didn’t want her to stop. 

That thought brought him up short and he froze. He hardly knew the lass; didn’t even know her name. Yet, her touch roused feelings in himself that he’d never felt before- until she moved up to his shoulder. Immediately, when she pressed her hand against it, he flinched back and hissed.

Her brows drew together as she pressed lightly over the most tender spot, leaving him sweaty and slightly shaky. Satisfied she’d poked and prodded enough, she pulled his shirt back down and gathered up the meat to cook their dinner. She watched him for a few minutes before pointing to her own shoulder.

”It hurts?”

“Aye, a bit. Do ye ken what was wrong wi’ it?”

She looked at him, brow furrowing in thought. Glancing down at the remains of their dinner, she made a noise indicating inspiration and picked up the discarded bones. Holding them up in demonstration, she pulled the foreleg out of joint from the main carcass, raising a sardonic brow at him. Jamie winced.

“Ah. It was out o’ joint then? Did ye fix it when ye first found me?”

The woman nodded, collieshangie curls fluttering about her head. She held the small carcass up again and popped the ball of the joint back into its socket in one swift motion. Jamie’s shoulder twinged in response. 

“Impressive, lass,” he replied, meaning it. “Putting a joint back isna easy. Thank you, Sassenach. Truly.”

Any pain or discomfiture was momentarily forgotten when she smiled at him, clearly pleased with herself. Jamie watched her check the bones for any more edible bits before getting up to dispose of them. The light and shadow of the fire framed her as she moved in front of it, throwing her body in sharp relief through the thin materials of her clothing. He quickly looked away, feeling the blush of embarrassment creep up his neck. 

“Claire.”

Jamie glanced back at her, seeing those golden whisky eyes warm and content as she stood by the glow of the fire. It took him a moment to realize he’d never answered her. 

“Pardon?” he asked.

She smiled and his heart turned over, beating so loudly he thought anyone could hear it. 

“Claire,” she said softly, inclining her head toward him. 

“Claire,” he repeated, the letter sounds rolling smoothly off of his tongue. Another smile from her. 

Jamie struggled to get to his feet, holding up a hand to her when she made a move to help. Once upright, he bowed. 

“Jamie,” he said, straightening. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance mistress.”

Claire grinned at him, shaking her head at what he thought must be a sight- himself a raggamuffin attempting chivalry. 

“Claire,” she repeated kindly, backing away from the clearing, slowly blending in with the dark trees behind her. “Just Claire.”

It wasn’t until she fully disappeared into the night that Jamie noticed he’d been holding his breath. 

“There is nothing ‘just’ about you, Sassenach.”


	4. Three

Jamie woke abruptly, fighting back the restraining hands that held him down. His heart was hammering, blind anger and panic still coursing through his body despite the pain that stabbed at him with each move he made.

“Be still!”

Part of his brain grasped onto that voice. She wouldn’t be on that field…

“Jamie, no!”

He could hear gasping and realized it was his own breathing. Forcing his eyes open, he saw that it was still late. The fire was burning low, emanating flickers of soft light that illuminated Claire’s face as she saw awareness come into his eyes. Her grip on his shoulders lessened as they looked at each other. 

“All right?” she asked softly, brushing his hair away from his damp face. 

“Aye,” he rasped. 

His throat was sore. _A Dhia_ he hoped he hadn’t cried out in his sleep. Once Claire helped him to sit upright, Jamie leaned his head back against the tree. He’d been dreaming of Culloden again, and little wonder - everything hurt. A soft breeze floated over him, making him shiver despite feeling parched and burnt by the sun. Claire brought the water skin to his lips, taking extra care not to touch him. 

“I’m sorry if I frightened ye.”

She paused, meeting his eyes as she shook her head.

“You didn’t.”

Jamie nodded, watching her as she examined his visible wounds. Seeing her face, it struck him that she might think she hadn’t cared for him properly. He swallowed. 

“What woke me… it was only a dream, ken?”

Claire took his hand, examining the splinter wound. “Only a dream?” she asked, meeting his eyes. 

She’d known what he’d meant. He looked away, seeing the first rays of sunlight beginning to show themselves through the trees. 

“Jamie?”

He turned back, heart stopping at the look on her face. Some pity, yes. Compassion, most certainly. But what struck him was the look of honest understanding.

 _I may not have visible wounds, but I know the invisible_ , her eyes said. 

*******

“Wouldn’t it be easier if ye just drop me in the ocean?”

“Yes.”

“Then where are we going?”

After a quiet breakfast, Jamie had asked Claire if there was a place to bathe that was near to her camp. Truthfully, he ached abominably, felt very ill, and could smell himself in a way that made him embarrassed to be in her presence. Claire had risen, gathered her spear and water skin, and forced him to walk deeper inland as he leaned against her. 

“Shush.”

“ _Shush, she says_ ,” he muttered in Gaelic, almost tripping over a fallen palm tree frond. Only Claire’s reflexes kept them both from toppling into a heap on the ground. 

“It will help,” Claire responded, ignoring his tone and keeping her pace. 

_If ye dinna kill me first_. 

“Sassenach…”

“This way.”

Jamie exhaled, focusing all of his energy on not collapsing. The very thought of simply lying down sounded almost more exquisite than the pain relief Claire had promised him. 

“In there,” Claire said, wiping her brow with the back of her hand. 

Jamie looked around the cave entrance that she’d pointed at. Surrounded by trees, the air around them seems to glow in the light of the sun that moved through the leaves overhead. Claire moved to brush branches away from an opening in the rock fissure before them. 

Jamie held out a hand to steady himself as they made their way down. And down. And down. 

“How far does the path go, Sassenach?” he asked lowly. 

Despite the air being cooler, he could feel the moisture that coated his face and ran down his back. His legs were beginning to tremble. He focused on her grip on him and followed her confident steps until he realized the path was leveling out. 

“Can you see it?” she asked. 

“I canna see anything.”

She left him standing, quietly moving about and making rustling noises. Jamie could hear the cave breathe and felt a small qualm go through his body at the reminder of the cave at Lallybroch. 

Suddenly, a small flame illuminated Claire’s face. He blinked, taking comfort in the warm light that was growing in her hands as she lit the torch that was buried in the ground. Satisfied that it would burn steadily, she rose and held out her hand. 

“Come.”

He stepped carefully, trying not to grimace. After journeying to this place, his shoulder and ribs ached with each breath and each pull and push of muscle seemed to emanate a burning jolt of pain that ran up his body and into his head. Taking her hand, he allowed her to tow him into the large cavern space. 

“Is that..?”

Claire smiled at him, gently pulling him closer to the edge of the clear black lake. The air was humid here. Jamie could see the wisps of moisture hanging over the still surface of the water, the faint scent of sulfur slightly burning in his nose. Claire turned, the flames illuminating her against the black backdrop of the cave. 

“Take off your shirt.”

Jamie blinked.

“What?”

Claire laughed, grabbing at the hem of his grubby sark. 

“It will get wet,” she said practically, pulling it up. 

“Christ, woman!” Jamie exclaimed, backing away and promptly tripping over a log that was behind him. “ _Ifrinn_!” 

Claire moved to help but he held out his hand, halting her. Sitting on the log, Jamie gazed suspiciously at her. Slowly, she sank to the ground and sat before him, gazing placidly back. 

“I willna be taking my shirt off, lass,” he said definitively. “Nor anything else! It’s no’ proper.”

“The water helps healing,” Claire replied firmly. 

“Aye, well, leave me be and-“

“You’ll drown.”

He opened his mouth to argue but promptly shut it again. Between the shipwreck, the journey to the cave, and his current physical limitations, he was shaking like a leaf. He exhaled heavily through his nose. 

“It will help,” she said softly, whisky eyes glowing up at him. 

“Lass…” he said, closing his eyes to avoid looking at her. 

Admittedly, he’d almost give anything for relief of his bodily ailments. He wouldn’t, however, dishonor the lass or himself. And then, there were the scars…

“Jamie.”

He opened his eyes and his mouth fell open. She stood, naked above the waste, looking over her shoulder at him. She lifted her hand, smoothing the thick mass of her hair out of the way. The original cuts would have been deep. They were five long runnels running from her right shoulder, across her back, and fading where the curve of her ribs created her waistline. Her eyes were sure and honest, lacking hesitancy or embarrassment. 

“Claire…”

He rose, transfixed. She stood still, watching him as he hesitantly reached out to touch one of the scars. She flinched slightly at his touch. He met her eyes to seek permission, and, after a moment, she nodded. Gently, he followed the line down, his hand cupping her waist as the marks faded. Gooseflesh had risen over her skin, making the tiny down hairs on her arms rise. Looking up, he found her lips had parted and the look of trust she gave him smote him to his very core. 

“Take off your shirt?” she asked, her hand covering the one he’d placed on her waist. “The water will help.”

He hesitated, then nodded. Backing up, he took a deep breath and pulled the linen over his head. He dropped it on the ground and looked up. He stared. 

“Have you never seen a naked woman before?” she asked, seeming amused. 

Her garments lay at her feet. That was the first thing he tried to focus on when he’d ripped his eyes away from her. 

“No’ one so close,” he gasped, torn between laughing and dying of embarrassment. 

“Your face is red.”

“Aye, to be sure,” he rejoined, meeting her eyes again. “Christ lass, ye’ve no’ a stitch on!”

She moved toward him, slowly, like she would approach a startled animal. 

“Your turn,” she said, reaching for his flies. 

Jamie jumped back and nearly tripped over the log again.

“No,” he said firmly. “Absolutely not.”

Claire cocked her head, eyebrow raised. The flames from the torch put her body in dark relief, as it had in the light of the campfire. This time, though, he actually knew what was under her clothing. Jamie swallowed, feeling the heat of embarrassment spreading to more than just his face. 

“The breeks stay on lass, and that’s all abou’ it.”

Claire smiled at him, but nodded, holding out her hand to help. She tucked her shoulder under his arm and suddenly stopped as her hand reached behind his back. Jamie closed his eyes. He’d forgotten, in the awkwardness. 

Claire stepped behind him, her fingertips gently caressing the hundreds of welts that scarred his back. He could feel her, almost see her face in his mind, and was startled at the knowledge that she wouldn’t be afraid. Claire would know, perhaps more than anyone else he’d ever met, about being haunted by scars and memories. The thought was oddly comforting. 

Silently, she stepped in front of him again and squeezed his hand. 

“Come. It’s shallow, just there.”

She led him to the pool, heedless of her nakedness. Try as he might, Jamie couldn’t look away. In the light, her skin was a sun kissed gold; there, in the dark, she glowed like ivory as she sank into the hot spring. A siren calling him to his death. He answered, slowly moving into the water, every cut and bruise stinging as he allowed her to wade him deeper. 

Jamie felt his body relaxing, the silence and stillness of this place putting his mind at peace and easing the pain and stiffness. Claire turned, holding him by the elbows as a gentle current began towing them. Her curls lay limp, the ends floating in the water, clinging to her breasts. He felt her start kicking as they floated into deeper waters and he reached for her without thought. 

He felt his world fix itself on her face as her confidence changed to surprise and guarded hesitance. Her eyes shone bright in the dimness, meeting his in silent trust. His hands at her waist held her up; gentle, so that she could pull away if she wished. She didn’t. 

Jamie had never held a naked woman. Had never thought he would, in fact, after Culloden and it’s aftermath. Thoughts of decency warred with the overwhelming sense of wanting her nearer. He felt her hands skim from his elbows up to his shoulders and he shuddered, despite the heat of the water that surrounded them. He pulled her closer, his heart beating loudly in his ears as he stopped before her breasts could brush his chest. 

Claire stared at him, her breathing heavier than usual. Slowly, she brought her hand behind his neck and flushed her body with his, her breath soft against his shoulder.

“God,” he whispered, holding her close, his hands running smoothly up and down her back. 

Her skin was soft and warm, slippery in the oily water. Jamie closed his eyes, feeling her heartbeat against his chest, the way her nipples brushed against him as she breathed, the feeling of her fingers running through his hair. He cupped her neck in his hand, sliding his fingers up to tangle in her wild curls. Claire whimpered, pulling herself higher so that her nose brushed his ear. 

His free hand slid down her waist, gripping her backside and pulling her closer. Claire hitched her leg around his hip and Jamie pulled her to him again, breath coming short. He could feel her, bare and open for him under the water. The next time, he thrust back against her. This time, he whimpered. 

Claire pulled back, meeting his eyes. Her eyes were soft, yet burning, despite the lack of light in that area of the lake. She touched his face, moving her hips against him as her nose brushed his. He could feel her breath against his lips as she shakily exhaled. 

What he wouldn’t give to kiss her, to reach down and touch her just _there_ …

Claire’s grip on him slipped and pain shot down his arm, making him hiss out a breath. She looked at him, mortified. 

“I’m sorry… I…”

Jamie blinked, shrugging the offending joint gingerly. 

“It’s alright, lass. Truly… I…”

They’d reached another bank and Claire found her footing again. Still, she held on to him. Jamie stared at her, appalled at his actions. 

“Claire, I am sorry,” he said. “I should never have…”

He looked at her helplessly, ashamed at his behavior. She stared at him, her parted lips and flushed cheeks making him start to lose his head all over again. Smiling a little shakily, she nodded. 

“Forgiven.”


End file.
